


Rickless Behavior

by glointhedark23



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Fluff, Love, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions of Suicide, Romance, Sexy Times, Smut, but there is no ACTUAL suicide, grumpy old man, hormonal teenager, lots of love, they love each other okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glointhedark23/pseuds/glointhedark23
Summary: Somewhere between all the planets and stars, between every fight and temper tantrum, between every long flight through space and every sleazy intergalactic motel, a bond had formed. 
And Morty had to forget.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Rick or Morty (damnit). Maybe in some alternate dimension....

_**Morty**_

 

_No one will know why but it's better that way,_ I thought to myself as I exited my bedroom, footsteps as light as humanly possible. My heart slammed forcefully in my chest, the fear outweighing the pain for the first time in months.

   Maybe I had felt the last of my pain. If I managed to stay afraid all the way up until the moment I did  _it,_ I wouldn't have to be sad again - at least not about this. 

   My fragile hopes had been for naught, I realized, as Rick's bedroom door became visible. I choked back a sob, covering my mouth with both hands as hot tears streamed down my face. Rick's snoring could be heard through the door, soft and light.  _Cute_ even, though he'd hate that. 

   Gently, I traced the wooden grain of his door with the tip of my pointer finger, wishing beyond all wishes that I could go in, curl up beside him, smell his smell, feel his warmth... without realizing it was happening, my hand had found its way to the brass doorknob. As my fingers made contact with the cool metal, I yanked my arm back to my body and ran away, quickly but silently. 

   Reaching the garage, I let out a shaky sigh. This was it. And I was  _afraid. And wrong. And sick. And fucked up._ Which was why I had to do this. 

   Digging through the drawers of Rick's desk, I began my search. It couldn't be far - he had just been working on it a few hours ago. I fumbled a little as a terrifying thought crossed my mind.

    _What if he brought it up to his room with him?_

    Of course that would just be my luck.

   Turning from his desk, I made my way over to his work table. My eyes had just began scanning its surface when I found what I was looking for. It had been strangely simple, anticlimactic in a way I'd not anticipated. 

   Relieved as I was, I felt my stomach drop. I didn't want to do this. It wasn't  _fair._ Why couldn't I just be a normal person - with normal thoughts and feelings?

   If my time with Rick had taught me anything, though, it's that life was never fair. And that normalcy was overrated - though, given my current situation, it sounded pretty damn tempting. 

   My hands shook as I reached for the device and the tears began to fall again, fat, hot and silent against my face. 

   Before I could change my mind, I looked down at the small machine before me. It was about 8 inches in length and as big around as the handle of a screwdriver. It's tip was small and rounded, and two large buttons lined one side of the object, along with a small red switch at the bottom and a green button on the other side.   

   Assuming the switch turned it on, I pushed it to the right and almost dropped it as a shrill, electronic hum sounded, indicating that it was indeed working. 

   I had just began fiddling with the buttons on the side when I head the sounds of someone moving upstairs.

_shit._

  Finding the green button with my thumb, I lifted the small machine to my right ear, unable to control my violent trembling. The sounds above me grew louder, followed by the sound of someone coming down the stairs - I had to act quickly. I held my breath.

_on the count of three..._

    "One" I said

My heart pounded wildly.

   "Two"

   I released a quivery breath, opening my eyes to check the door to the garage which was creaking open now, a slender hand on the doorknob.

   "Three!" I shouted, pushing the button. 

   "Morty!" I heard the sound of someone yelling my name before a flash of green light erupted behind my eyes, followed by nothing...nothing at all.

   Darkness engulfed me. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**_Beth_ **

 

Sighing to myself, I pulled my earbuds out and closed my book. Without the steady stream of my  _Film Noir_ playlist, Jerry's uneven snores cut through the silent bedroom like a rusty saw. 

   I turned, looking down at his sleeping form. Guilt gnawed at me as I remembered the argument we'd had before bed.

   Suddenly wishing he were awake, I scooted down the bed and snuggled my nose into his warm neck, planing a feather-light kiss on his shoulder.

   "I'm sorry, honey" I whispered into his hair.

   He shifted, grunting in his sleep, and turned the other direction. Conscious or not, the rejection stung. I wasn't wanted. 

   Somehow it always came back to that. I was only ever used as a means to an end for the men in my life. Food on the table, money in the bank, bed to sleep in. All these things I provided for them without strings attached - well, perhaps there was one. All I'd ever wanted was to be loved unconditionally...by Jerry, by Rick.

   But I was never enough, would never be taken seriously. I'd gotten pregnant too early in my search for that love - before I'd even known that was what I'd been doing. It was an offence that my father still hadn't let go of, even after meeting Summer and Morty. And then there was my job - an offence to Jerry that I'd never quite understood - hell, it probably bothered Rick too, that his only daughter used the family _'science genes'_ to operate on horses instead of people. 

   It was the undercurrent of their disapproval, their unspoken (and occasionally spoken) disdain for the choices I'd made in life, that fueled my bitterness. I gave and gave. They took and took. And all I wanted was to be loved, to be appreciated.  

   A broken sob echoed through my brain - I almost thought I'd heard it out loud, but no. My lips were closed and my house was silent - my family slept on, oblivious to the pains I faced.

   My watery eyes threatened to spill over, but I pushed the tears back along with the blankets - I needed a drink, and quick.

   I wasted no time in pulling on my thin robe and padding down the stairs for a glass of wine. I had just reached the last step and was turning towards the kitchen when I heard that muffled sob once more - coming from the garage. 

   My initial thought was that Rick was awake and by the sound of it, facing demons on his own. A guilty sense of hope filled me as I thought that perhaps tonight could be our breakthrough...if he didn't make me go away - which he would - or if he accepted what little comfort I could offer - which he wouldn't. 

   The glee of an opportunity faded quickly though, replaced with the compassion only a mother can match, as I inched closer to the door and realized it was Morty crying and not Rick. 

   Morty, my sweet boy. The only person in the family who _did_ need me, who _did_ appreciate me, who _did love me_. 

   As I opened the door to comfort my child, I stumbled back in horror as I found him sobbing incoherently, a small metal devise plunged into his right ear.

    _NO!_

   " _Morty_!" I cried, certain I was about to witness the death of my child.  

   I watched, terrified, as Morty crumpled to the ground lifelessly, the metal contraption skidding across the concrete floor. 

   Panicked, I ran to where he lay and pulled his body up to mine.

    _Oh God, oh God, check his pulse, check for wounds, oh my God_...

   No blood or wounds were visible, and when my fingers found his neck, his pulse was there and _strong_ \- as if he'd been afraid. 

   "Morty!" I shook him by the shoulders, his eyelashes fluttered lightly, "Morty, wake up!"

   His eyes opened drowsily. Something was missing. His eyebrows knit together as if he were confused.

   "Morty?" I asked, "What's wrong?"

   "Who are you?" he questioned, gazing up at me.

   I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, "What do you mean, Morty? It's me, Morty, It's Mom."

   "Mom?" He asked, the word sounding foreign on his tongue, "What....where...?"

   He lifted his hands up to his face, staring intently at them as if he'd never seen them before, and broke into a loud cry. 

   "Who am I?" He sobbed, "Where am I?'

   "Morty, you're at home. This is your _home_. I'm your mother and you're _Morty_. Don't you remember?" I tried to explain softly, slowly so he would understand - but his wailing only grew louder. 

   "I don't remember anything!" He cried.

   At the very least, he must have sensed a comfort in me. He found the fabric of my nightshirt and gripped it tightly, burying his face into my torso as he cried. 

   "Shh...shh...honey, it's okay. I'm here, Mommy's here." I soothed him the best I could, rubbing his back in slow circles.

   After several minutes of laying on the cold garage floor, I pulled us up. 

   "Come on, Morty. Let's go inside. Everything is going to be okay."

   Slowly, I led him into the living room and gestured for him to sit on the sofa. I draped my robe over his shoulders and knelt in front of him, bringing him face to face with me. 

   "Morty, I'm going to get your grandfather. He will know how to fix this. Okay?"

   "Don't leave me!" He begged, gripping my arms tightly.

   "It's okay, baby, I'll be right back, don't worry"

   After a moment of indecision he nodded slowly, understanding. I offered him a reassuring smile before running up the stairs.

    _What the fuck?!_

   "Dad!" I said loudly, opening my father's bedroom door, surprised to find it unlocked, "Dad, wake up! Dad!"

   I shook Rick's sleeping form, trying to rouse him from an alcohol (and probably also drug) induced slumber. 

   "Wha... What in the... _eughrrp._..what in the _fuck_? Beth? What's wrong?"

   "Dad, something happened to Morty! I-"

   Rick's eyes widened quickly, and I stopped, startled by his worried expression. I'd never known my father to panic, but the expression on his face now was one of pure terror.

   "What happened? Is he alright? Is he...is he...?"

   "Dad he's okay - I think. He just can't remember anything. He doesn't even know who he is anymore." Seeing Rick look panicky had unnerved me and I was feeling my already shot composure begin to unravel. 

   Rick seemed to calm at the knowledge that Morty was indeed alive. He threw his blanket off and stood quickly - too quickly, the heavy booze from last night catching up with him. 

   "Dad, did you have anything to do with this?" I asked, trying to remember if they'd gone on one of their adventures the previous evening. 

   "No, Beth, I didn't de- _eughhrrrp_ -stroy Morty's memory." Rick looked like he was fighting heavy nausea. He pulled a shirt on over his bare chest and took Beth's trembling hand. "Where is he?"

   "Living room." I answered quickly, comforted a little by the fatherly touch of his hand. He would fix this, I knew he would.

   

   I followed him down the stairs, drying my eyes quickly so I wouldn't startle Morty. My mind raced, wondering what on Earth had happened - and suddenly it occurred to me that  

   "Dad, should we call an ambulance?" 

   "I don't know yet. Let me look at him first."

   Reaching the living room, Rick walked fluidly over to where Morty sat curled into the corner of the sofa, and I trailed behind him timidly, feeling more like a little girl than I had in a very long time. 

   Morty looked terrified, his arms were wrapped around his legs, and he rocked back and forth with a horrible, confused look on his face.

   "Hey kid" Rick said, kneeling in front of him, just like I had done before. He reached out and placed a hand on Morty's cheek.

   Morty jumped at the contact and for a moment, there was the briefest flash of recognition on his face before his previous look took over once more.

  "Who are you?" Morty asked, looking miserable. 

  "I'm your Grandpa. Do you remember what happened?"

  Morty shook his head, his gaze falling onto me for a moment, then back to Rick, "I just remember waking up. She - she told me that she was 'Mom' "

   "That's right, Morty, I'm your mom." I encouraged, nodding.

   "Yeah, okay." Rick scratched the back of his neck. "Where'd you find him?" He asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

   "In the garage. He was - he had something in his ear. He was holding up to himself before he collapsed. I thought it was a gun at first, but I don't think it was."

   Rick nodded, a look of understanding - then annoyance - crossing his features.

   "I know what happened." He said, standing and patting my shoulder softly. "I can fix it sweetie, don't worry."

   "Well, w-what is it? What can I do to help?"

   "He used my memory eraser. I don't know why he would do something like that." He shot Morty a scorching glance and Morty whimpered, burrowing further into the sofa. "And no, I can fix it on my own. Why don't you - euughhrrp - go get yourself something to drink. Frankly, you look like you need it, and I work better when I'm left alone. I'll get this taken care of."

   Feeling a bit more at ease (and the slightest bit patronized), I wrapped my arms around Rick's torso, "Thanks Dad."

   "You're welcome, Beth." he patted my back before turning his attention to Morty.

   "Alright pal, let's get this taken care of." He said, offering his hand to Morty.

   Morty eyed it skeptically before taking it, and followed Rick into the garage, shooting me a glance before disappearing behind the door.

   Now that the initial panic had worn off, my nerves felt shot. Nibbling at my lip, I decided I would have a discussion with Morty tomorrow morning. Why in the hell would he do that to himself - to his family? Why would be want to erase his memories? Had I really been that neglectful? 

   

   I walked to the kitchen for that drink. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Rick_ **

 

        _"Something happened to Morty!"_

   The sentenced bounced around in my head. I'd need _way_ more booze to get rid of that one, though my stomach disagreed, gurgling unpleasantly at the thought of more alcohol. I'd really overdone it last night. 

   My feelings on the current situation lingered somewhere between relief and major annoyance. What in the fuck would make Morty do something so stupid? Of course, I was no shining example as far as reckless behavior was concerned - but this was _Morty_ we were talking about. He knew better. 

   I had noticed a change though, if I were being honest, and I kicked myself mentally for not saying something about it. The past month or so, Morty had been distant and quiet. He'd been avoiding me for certain, and I'd taken it personally. Well, how else was I supposed to take it? I showed the little shit some adventure every now and again, I spent time with him and put up with his annoying little antics while everyone else ignored him, and he repaid me by dodging me in the hallway, refusing to make eye contact and ignoring my texts. 

   Perhaps if I hadn't taken it so personally, if I'd considered the possibility that something was bothering him instead of assuming I'd offended him somehow, we wouldn't be in this mess. Somehow that's how it always happened with people. I could offend even the most morally corrupt. It had happened before and it would happen again, and it was easier to believe that I'd pissed Morty off than to reach out and make sure the little dweeb was alright. 

    _Something happened to Morty!_

   And I couldn't shake that relief - though I tried, wanting nothing more than to seethe in my anger. He deserved a violent outburst after this stupid trick of his, but every inch of me ached to reach for him, to hold this boy I could have lost a thousand times over. It was a feeling I'd shaken many times before. But there was something different about not being there, about being woken from a deep sleep to the possibility that the most important person in your life was gone... Yes, the relief was there: discernible even through the haze of alcohol and anger.  

   My mind fell to all of the Ricks I'd heard about who'd lost their Morties. Some had continued an average life (as average a life as a Rick could have, at least), others had fallen into a pit of pathetic despair, a few had even offed themselves.

   I wondered which one I would be. I still had a coupon for a free Morty...but something about that stupid slip of paper gripped at me with guilt, which was something I had plenty of already. 

    _Something happened to Morty!_

   And I felt all of the air leave my chest, my stomach dropping instantly as Beth threw the words at me. Because somewhere between all the planets and stars, between every fight and temper tantrum, between every long flight through space and every sleazy intergalactic motel, a bond had formed - much to my chagrin. A bond, and then a friendship, and then something else. Something I'd never admitted, even to myself. But tonight had been different. For a moment, I'd thought he was gone. He was gone and _I loved him_. And I'd never see him again. 

   But here he was, he was safe, everything was okay and I could fix this. Oh yes, I could fix this. Because what kind of genius would I be if I created a memory eraser and _not_ a memory repair kit as well?

   "I think I know you" Morty said, interrupting my thoughts.

   "Yeah, I introduced myself two minutes ago."

   "No, I think I...I mean, I think I might _remember_ you...maybe. I don't know..."

   I swallowed thickly, throat feeling dry. I patted the side where my flask usually resided, but found only the fabric of my lab coat. Damnit. 

   "Of course you do, Morty, I'm Rick fucking Sanchez - I'm hard to forget, baby." I shot a wink his way and he giggled, seemingly more relaxed. 

   Something seemed to click then, and his eyebrows shot up, almost reaching his hairline. 

   "Rick!" he said excitedly

   "What, Morty?"

   "No, I mean, I remembered something...kind of. Your name, it helped me remember!"

   "Well what is it?"

   "Rick and Morty....Rick and Morty 100 years...100 years.. does that mean anything? It's the only thing I can remember." He gazed up at me expectantly.

   I faltered, clearing my throat, "Uh, yeah Morty, it's a memory, just... Hey why don't we get back to the task at hand? It's late and I'm hungover. I'd like to go back to bed at some point." 

   He nodded, that overly trusting gaze never leaving his face, and I offered him a weak smile before turning away to find what I needed.

   Going to my desk, I looked through the drawers, finding them in an even bigger mess than they usually were. Morty had probably rummaged through them earlier while looking for the memory eraser, the little fuck.

   After some digging, I found the memory repair kit. It was about the same shape and size as your generic first aid box. Attached to it were two long wires. I uncurled the wires from their spindles and attached one to each side of Morty's head with little white stickers. 

   The process would be simple. One flip of a switch and a zap would yank free all of Morty's locked away memories. The memory eraser itself could be more accurately described as a memory 'hider' - as it really didn't _destroy_ a memory, but closed off the section of the brain containing it. 

   Memories weren't a tangible thing - too fluid to grasp completely. The only other way to "destroy" a memory, would be to destroy that section of the brain - a process both dangerous and difficult, even for me. 

   My finger hovered over the switch. I still wondered why Morty had used it in the first place. What was he trying to forget? What was he trying to _hide_?

   Sensing my hesitation, Morty's eyebrows arched in that familiar, anxious way of his, "Is everything okay?"

   "Yeah, Morty. Everything's fine" I assured him, "There's just something I need to do first - for science, Morty."

   "Oh...okay." He said, looking a little frightened.

   Turning to my left, I grabbed a box on the wall shelf and dug through it until I found a small vial.

   "Here Morty, tilt your head back."

   "What is that?!" He demanded, staring at the concoction.

   "Don't worry about it Morty, just help grandpa out and tilt your head back."

   He chewed his lip thoughtfully, then did as I said. Reaching up, I cupped his jaw with one hand, using my fingers to hold him steady as I positioned the vial above his mouth.  A single drop of this stuff could knock a grown man out for 8-10 hours. 

   Carefully, I tipped the bottle and let one small drop land on Mory's puckered lips.

   "Alright Morty, lick your lips." I said, cringing inwardly as I pushed the sentence from my lungs. Something about standing this close and asking him to lick his lips made my knees buckle, and more guilt coursed through me as I realized how erotic this felt.

   Mesmerized, I watched as Morty's tongue darted out to lick the substance from his moist, pink lips. 

   Within seconds, his eyes began to droop and he slumped forward, head falling against my chest as he fell into a deep sleep. 

   Carefully, I situated his lanky body so that he lay fully on my work table. 

   It took me a moment to find what I was looking for because of my rummaged-through desk, but it was all still there. Finding the spool of copper wire, I cut two strands off and pried the top of the kit off with my blunt fingernails. I fiddled with a few of the kit's settings and attached the wires to the same small device that Morty's wires were attached to, then taped the ends of the wire to my own head. 

   Wishing now more than ever that I had my flask, I stilled myself - trying to prepare my body to receive the memories and emotions of my hormonal, teenage grandson. 

   Reaching around the side of the kit, my fingers found the switch and I held my breath. 

   I flicked the switch quickly and emotion hit me like a tidal wave. I struggled to keep my footing as every thought and emotion that Morty had ever experienced was transferred to my brain with a sickening ZAP. The contents of my stomach came up and I maneuvered my body to the side, still vaguely aware that Morty was lying directly in front of me. 

   And suddenly I was no longer Rick, but a 17 year old boy named Morty. I skimmed over the adolescent years with impatience, stopping as I reached his 14th birthday. 

   It began with sadness. My family tolerated my existence, but not much more. Engulfed in school and friends, my older sister paid me little mind, and not much more could be said for my bickering parents.

   Images flooded my mind of Summer slamming her bedroom door in my face, of screaming matching between Beth and Jerry at the dinner table, of lying in my bedroom all alone - trying desperately to feel the void in my soul with pornography or movies or comics.

   And school was worse. I had no friends, only a number of acquaintances, people I'd known forever but never spoke with. My feverish crush on Jessica faded slowly as I realized she was just as ugly as she was beautiful. 

   Thousands of moments reinforced the sadness, making it grow stronger, and just as I began to feel as if it would suffocate me, a relieving flood of joy moved in, and the image of Rick Sanchez emerged as we became a part of one another's lives, of getting to see galaxies, different planets and alien species. My life had changed that day - so much for the better and so much for the worse, because the joy was fleeing.

   Fear gripped at me next, making me gasp for air as it squeezed all of the oxygen out of my lungs. Memories flooded in, of being lost on alien planets, of burying my own torn up body, of shooting innocent people, and being chased by monsters. 

   But somewhere in that fear, rose up an overwhelming sense of trust - because even though I was afraid - afraid of dying, of destroying humanity, of losing my privileges with Rick - despite all of that, I trusted Rick to take care of things. Somehow, I knew that Rick would always protect me. 

   And then the day came when I realized I was wrong. I was nothing to Rick. As we'd flown home that night, I knew that Rick had seen the betrayal in my eyes as I noticed the golden pattern of a "Free Morty Coupon" sticking out of his pocket. How could he understand how damaging it is to know you're replaceable?

   For a short while, Rick fell into the same terrible spectrum as every other person in my life. He didn't care about me - no one did. 

   But it had only been a short while, indeed. Because even though I was replaceable, even though Rick was an asshole and I was an idiot, he still spent his time with me. He still chose to drag me along on his adventures instead of Summer or Mom. And I couldn't help but go with him. I was drawn in, seduced by the possibility of mattering to somebody, even when I knew it wasn't real. I hung somewhere in the middle of a limbo, knowing I _shouldn't_ matter, but still did - at least a little. It was with that perspective that I began to notice small things about Rick.

   When he'd go too long without alcohol he would sometimes get this look in his eyes that tugged at my heart, and I knew he was sad. When we'd have a particularly fun day, I would grin at him and every now and again I would catch him smiling too, looking down at me with a far away expression that was soft but otherwise unreadable. 

   He was in great pain - that was what Bird Person had told me. 

   And the sympathy came rolling in - no not sympathy, though it would be easy to confuse it as such. _Empathy_ , it was. because I _knew_   how it felt to be less than dirt. I didn't know what made Rick sad, what made him want to drown his loneliness in alcohol, but I knew that I felt it too. That shared depression, that understanding of Rick's alcoholism and reckless behavior, deepened the affection I had for him. 

   After considering the affection I held for him, I came to the conclusion that I loved him, and surely it was normal to love your grandfather. But this was...different.

   The love grew and grew. I looked forward to seeing Rick every day. I thought about our adventures on a constant basis. I didn't do homework or go to movies. My life revolved around our time spent together. The very thought of Rick made my toes curl. His smell, his humor, his hair, the way he held himself and interacted with people, never sugar coating anything, never lying.

   And one day I realized that I didn't love Rick - I was _in love_ with Rick - and that was most definitely _not normal_. 

   Even so, I made the smallest of hints - a lingering touch, holding eye contact for a beat too long, offering smiles even when he looked at me with cold disinterest. 

   I told myself that I was okay with this. He would never love me - not really. But I could always admire him from afar. 

   My resolve began to crack, though, as Rick took notice of my changed behavior. He loathed affection, or so it seemed. He called me gross, demanded that I get a friend my own age and stop acting so obsessive. And it broke something inside of me. I was disgusted with myself, embarrassed that I'd even considered the possibility. 

   I tried to distance myself. I would rather feel sad and alone than feel _this_ , whatever this was. But I was too far gone, there was no going back and no matter how hard I tried, I could not forget.

   Rick had mentioned his memory eraser one day to me as we ate breakfast. The memory surfaced and I tried no to smile as him as he spoke to me directly - the rest of the family either hadn't been listening or didn't care.

   It was during school the next day, as I doodled a sketch of the spaceship in my algebra book, that what he'd been talking about clicked for me. Had he said a 'Memory Eraser'?

   I devised a plan.

   I wouldn't forget everything - only the past 3 years or so. I would remember Rick enough to call him by name, but nothing more.

   It was risky, of course. I would look crazy to my family, but they'd get over it. This family had seen some rough shit, a little memory loss didn't even come close to some of the crazy things we'd dealt with. Still, it would be noticeable. But it was worth it.  

    _No one will know why, but it's better that way..._

 

   I yanked the wires from my head, becoming Rick once more, my surroundings slowly becoming clear. 

   Finding my chair, I sunk down gracelessly, rubbing my eyes. The memories - the emotions, were still there, lingering beneath the surface and mine to keep forever. It was overwhelming and I began to regret my decision. 

   After catching my breath, I stood and walked over to Morty's sleeping form. Impulsively, I ran a hand through his soft hair. He had no idea, no idea at all how deeply my affections ran. If only he had known that this unrequited love of his hadn't been quite so unrequited, this wouldn't have happened. 

   But could I tell him? Could I risk this? Could I avoid it?

   I had no moral code to speak of, but this was.... this was something else. If Beth and Jerry found out, that would be it - sayonara. Beth wouldn't be able to get me out of _that_ one, nor would she want to. And if I left, Morty would still be sad and miserable - hell, _I'd_ be miserable. 

   But I was Rick Sanchez. _Rick Sanchez._ No one set standards for me. I didn't follow any laws - moral or legal - that got in the way of what I wanted. And so what if I wanted it? 

   "How's it going in here?" Beth sounded from the doorway, nearly making me jump. 

   "He's fine, Beth, he'll be asleep for a while."

   "Is he alright now?" she asked, gripping her large glass of wine tightly.

   No.

   "Yes, sweetie. Go to bed, okay? I'll stay with him. I have stuff I need to work on anyways."

   "Okay, Dad. Thanks"

   I spend the next minute or so returning the repair kit to its normal setting.

   "Sorry Morty" I whispered, flicking the switch. His body twitched once, then relaxed. He'd remember everything tomorrow when he woke up. All I had to do was wait. 

   And drink.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**_Morty_ **

 

 

   I woke up slowly and groggily in my bed, my eyes feeling puffy and sore. Sometime as I slipped between sleep and wakefulness, I realized my attempt at destroying my memories of the past three years had failed.

   Instead of the overwhelming sadness that normally took over, I felt numb - my conflicting feelings canceling one another out. 

   The room was cold, and wintery light filtered in through my window, telling me I'd slept through the morning and into the late afternoon. I'd missed school, of course. The house was silent, save for the muffled sound of the television running downstairs, but that meant probably nothing - Jerry had a habit of leaving it on. 

   After some time, I drug myself from bed and undressed, noticing that I'd been put in bed with all of my clothes on. In fact, it had probably been Rick to put me in bed. Best not to think about it. 

   I sat in a steaming, hot shower for the better part of an hour, then went back to my room, still feeling tired. Without bothering to dress, I wrapped myself in my soft, green comforter and collapsed onto the bed. 

   Minutes passed and I had just began to doze off when I heard a soft tapping on my door. It was probably Mom, I knew, wanting to know what in the hell was wrong with me. 

   I didn't reply, opting to fake sleep, but the door opened anyways. I seriously needed to get a lock.

   "I heard you get up." Rick's voice said. I heard the door click shut. 

   The sound of Rick's voice startled me and after my heart began slowing back to its normal pace, I began to feel my emotions creeping back to me. 

    _No..._ I would have rather kept the numbness. 

   I sat up, blanket still wrapped around me like a cocoon.

   "I'm not in the mood for an adventure today, Rick. I'm sorry." I tried to sound exasperated, thinking that I could take a page from Rick's book and just pretend not to care.

   "I just came to - eeeuughrp - check on you, Morty. Sheesh." He raked a hand through his hair, "Well, do you feel okay?"

   "Oh... yeah, I feel fine - just tired. Are _you_ okay, Rick?" He looked terrible, and he was acting strangely. I dropped the act, knowing I'd be no good at it anyways. Somebody in this family had to care, it might as well be me.

   Rick shifted from one foot to the other, looking a little on edge. Maybe he'd had too much to drink. Either way, he looked like a hot mess, standing here in my bedroom with a worried look on his face, his hair even more messy than it normally was. 

   "I'm fine Morty." he said, walking over to my bed and sitting down. He pulled out his flask and stared down at it.

   "You don't look fine, Rick. What's wrong?" I placed a timid hand on his shoulder, expecting him to brush it off immediately, but unable to stop myself. If only I could be a comfort to him...

   "Morty listen, I - euurp - I don't want you to be ashamed of yourself anymore."

   My stomach dropped. Did he know? How could he know?

   "What do you mean, Rick? Ashamed about what?"

   He looked down at me with knowing eyes, his lips curling up into a grin that said, _"you're not fooling anyone."_

   "Oh jeez" I groaned, putting my face in my hands.

   "You know, Morty," Rick began, kicking off his shoes and leaning further back into the bed, "There are several dimensions with Ricks and Morties that fuck - some even have honest relationships."

   I looked up at him in shock, what was happening here? Was I still asleep?

   "W-w-what?"

   "I read your mind, Morty."

   "You _what_?!"

   "I wanted to know why you used the me-eurrp-memory eraser." He pulled his arms out of his lab coat, tossing the stained, white garment unceremoniously to the ground. 

   "Rick, what in the fuck are you doing?"

   "You, Morty."

   His hands were too quick for me to even think of a reply. He captured my face, bringing it close to his own.

   His lips were surprisingly soft, but his breath was foul with whiskey. Still, he tasted like _Rick_ , exactly as I'd imagined he would, and I gave in with a soft moan, opening up for him. Releasing my grip on the blanket, I moved closer to him, one hand cupping his scruffy jaw, the other buried in his blue-gray hair.

   His tongue danced around my mouth expertly, and when I pulled away for air, his teeth made contact with the skin of my neck. I squeaked in surprise.

   He chuckled a little at the sound, an action I felt rather than heard, his chest bobbing slightly. His hands pushed away the blanket, leaving me bare, and pulled me up to straddle his lap.

   "Sleeping naked, Morty?" he whispered gruffly against my ear, "So naughty...almost like you knew I'd come for you. And I will, Baby." His wet tongue found my shoulder, and he licked a wet trail across my chest. 

   "Nnnnn...." I moaned, throwing my head back in ecstasy. 

   Finding the edge of his shit, I pulled it up and over his head. The sensation of our bare chests pressed together was maddening, and my hips ground against him urgently, my groin aching for contact. 

   He shoved me then, and I fell back down against the bed, watching as Rick moved swiftly, placing a knee on either side of me. His fly was half undone and a large bulge showed through the fabric of his pants. Above the zipper, a thick tuft of hair trailed all the way up to his naval. The hair on his chest was thin, but present - and still that wonderful blue-gray color. His bare arms were small but sinewy, and by the time I looked into his eyes - which were ablaze with lust - I was panting heavily, hungry for this man above me. 

   Reaching down, Rick took hold of my erection and passed a tantalizing thumb over the tip. Pre-cum leaked from me and he scooped it up, swirling between his two fingers, and grinned devilishly. 

   "So eager...all for me." 

   "Y-yes, Rick...."

   "Yes, Morty, say my name."

   "R-Rick." I choked out, my face hot and without a doubt, covered with a blush. 

   I tossed my head to the side, the initial shock of the situation had slowed to a simmer, allowing the small, cold finger of embarrassment to wiggle its way in. 

   "Look at me, Morty." he said, releasing me. A whimper escaped from the back of my throat. 

   "Look. At. Me." He repeated.

   I disobeyed, my eyes remaining closed. I threw my arm over my eyes in shame. 

   "I'm sorry Rick, so sorry..."

   Ricks hands brushed away my arm and found my face, bringing my head close to his once more. 

   "Sheesh, Morty, calm down. It's alright." My eyes shot open. "This isn't a big deal unless you make it one. You don't need to feel guilty. I mean look at me, Morty. Shamelessly riding a 17 year old - if either of us should - euurghp - feel _ashamed_ , it's me. Yet here I am."

   My eyes bore into his. I licked my lips, ready to speak, but unsure of what to say.

   "That's better." he said, moving down the bed, his teeth scraping across my chest and down my stomach.

   "Oh..." I breathed, as his mouth made contact with my cock.

   His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue dancing over me skillfully, and I risked a glance down.

   A tingly feeling of disbelief and awe moved from my toes to my stomach as I watched him sloppily give me head. He wrapped a hand around the base of my cock, dragging it up to meet the place where his mouth stopped. Saliva dripped over his knuckles, creating glistening puddles in my pubic hair which he raked his graceful fingers through. 

   I could feel my orgasm building, coming quickly with force, but I wanted this to last.

   In an attempt to pull myself away, Rick's grip tightened. 

   "Rick! Rick, please!"

   His mouth released me with a loud pop.

   "What do you want, Morty?"

   "I - I don't know exactly Rick but I - I'm gonna cum too soon if you don't stop." I managed trough heavy breaths. 

   Rick grinned, obviously pleased with my torment.

   "Okay, Morty" he said, "turn around."

   I needed no further prompting, and turned quickly onto my stomach.

   "Mmm.. such a good boy" He praised, cupping my ass gingerly. 

   "Are we alone in the house, Rick?"

   "Don't worry about it, Morty, I've got it taken care of."

   "Oh...okay." 

   "You keep lube in here?"

   "In the nightstand..."

   Rick found it quickly, popping the cap and squirting its content into his palm.

   "Good boy..." He repeated, and my worries melted away as he reached around to pull my ass up in the air, his fingers grazing my cock teasingly. 

   He rubbed my ass in slow circles, then without warning, gave me a sharp smack across the left cheek. 

   I yelped in surprise, then groaned into my pillow as his slick finger found my anus.

   Rick hummed as his finger slid into me, one hand still gripping my cheek. I pushed back into his slightly, urging him onward. In a smooth moment, he pushed the rest of his finger in and curled it _just so_.

   "Oh...Rick!" I groaned, pushing harder against him, reaching for my throbbing cock with my own hand.

   "Hands off, Morty." Rick said, slapping my hand away.

   Whimpering, I did as I was told and Rick pushed a second finger in, urging me to relax through it. 

   After a moment of preparation, I began to hear the ruffling of fabric, and knew that Rick was readying himself for me. 

   The mere thought sent a delightful shiver down my spine and I bit my lip with a shaky moan as he positioned his cock, slick with lube, at my entrance. 

   "You ready, Morty?" he asked, this tip of his member prodding at my puckered opening. 

   "Yes, _pleeeease, Rick!_ " 

   His tip pushed in, stretching me with it's hard and slick persistence. I groaned uncontrollably. 

   He moved slowly, withdrawing slightly then pushing back in, a little further each time.

   "Relax" He grunted, "Relax, Morty, let me in. Oh....Morty, so tight, so...Mmm, I've waited a long time for this, Morty."

   Slowly, he found a rhythm, frequently pouring lube over the place where we met, keeping my opening slick for him. 

   After several moments of pushing in and out of me, he leaned down, his body curving with mine, and wrapped his long arm underneath me, grabbing my swollen and leaking cock with his slender fingers.

   He pumped me with his hand, matching the rhythm with his own.

   "M-Morty..." He panted gruffly into my hair.

   "Rick...I'm gonna..."

   "Yes, baby, come for me. Come with me, Morty."

   His thrusts became hard and frantic and he quickened the pace of his hand. I came with a shout, my hips bucking sporadically and he followed suit, biting into my shoulder with a growl. I pushed into him as he finished, basking in the afterglow of my orgasm. 

   After finding his breath again, Rick pulled himself from me carefully and collapsed on the bed beside me. I smiled in relief as he held out an arm for me, inviting me to lay beside him. 

   I tucked myself into the nook of his arm and ran my fingers through the hairs on his chest, fascinated. 

   We lay in comfortable silence for a while, and I became dimly aware that my family would be home soon. 

   "Hey Rick, what time is it?"

   "It's been a quarter past two for an hour and a half." He said with a chuckle.

   Smiling, I pulled myself from the bed, dragging my fingers down the length of his arm. I laced my fingers through his and my heart did a flip as he squeezed my hand. 

   "Wanna go watch Gazorpazorpfield?"

   "Eeeghhurp - sounds good, Morty."

   

   As he unfroze time and settled on the sofa beside me, I remembered the last time we'd frozen time and suddenly became a little nervous. It had been less than two hours, though - hardly anything compared to the months from before, and as I looked at Rick, I realized I had nothing to worry about.

   Right now I felt the furthest thing from indecisive. I scooted closer. 

  

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry if this had a sort of awkward or rushed ending.... I may work on fixing that later, but I wasn't really sure how to wrap it up and was really excited about finally posting. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome and appreciated!


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